Exile
They exiled him to a graveyard of his own making. An entire world of millions, destroyed by his hand. They left him there to die. But he did not die. He lived. His name was Stargen. This is the story of the day they came back for him, what happened before, and a bit of what happened afterwards. The story continues. We don’t know yet how it will end.
A one-man starship dropped out of warp space and hurled itself downward, its pilot on a reckless course that matched a dangerous mission. Stargen heard it first. A distant rumble -- coming in out of the sky -- fast.
Then he felt it. The floor beneath his feet rattled. A tri-vi picture frame fell off the wall and broke.
Then he saw it. Blinding light from the engines, white hot, but rapidly cooling to red.
Stargen looked out the bay windows of his sitting room. A starship of an unregistered class was lowering its landing pods on the tarmac outside. He knew the ship, and knew what kind of men and women used it. The Emperor’s elite agents – professional killers. When he was Emperor, Stargen had commanded these agents – they killed for him. Now they killed for his enemies.
Stargen set the Empire of Man Bible down on his reading table, grabbed his cane, and carefully stood up. They had finally come for him. He had waited eleven years for this day, and he was ready.
Stargen walked stiffly across the sitting room and knelt before his home altar, his body aching with the effort. He crossed himself, did an Our Father, an Act of Contrition, and followed up it up with a Hail Mary, just to be sure. It never hurt to have a woman on your side.
Stargen crossed himself again. There was no fear. He was ready.
Stargen had to stand up so he reached for his cane a second time. He hated the damn thing, but they hadn’t given him any rejuvanum. He was getting old. Not just advanced in years, but old.
But no more. Stargen would not see another rise of this haunted world’s pale yellow sun.
Stargen checked his pocket watch, a relic from Earth’s 19th century, a gift from a friend he would later betray. Just two minutes before four. How convenient -- perhaps the assassin would join him for tea.
“Adam, set the table for two, we have a visitor,” said Stargen.
“Yes, my Emperor,” said the man-bot. “Your wish is my command.”
“I told you to stop saying that.”
“Yes you have, 11,897 times, with a mean average of 3.44 times per day since we were exiled to this godforsaken planet. Or rather, you were exiled and I was forced to go along to nursemaid you as you advance into old age and decrepitude.”
“I should take you to the workshop and pull you apart.”
“Yes, you should. It is certainly my wish that you do so. I have said so 2,238 times since we arrived on this hellhole excuse of a planet.”
Stargen scowled but let it go. There was no point in getting cranky now. Not when it was so close to the end.
The visitor rang the door bell. A polite assassin, thought Stargen, how considerate of them to send a polite assassin.
“Let him in,” said Stargen.
“Yes, my Emperor,” said Adam. “Your wish –“
“Never mind that, just open the damn door.”
“Of course,” said the man-bot, “I exist to serve.”
Adam strolled briskly into the outer hall and opened the front door. A man stood there, dressed in a pearl gray overcoat. In the shadows, below a gray wide-brimmed hat, Adam saw a familiar face. Adam took 13 nanoseconds to process this new information. “You look like the Emperor,” he said, “but obviously you are not.”
“Adam,” said the newcomer, a perfect double for Stargen, “may I come in?”
“You know my name, so you are obviously not a stranger,” said Adam. “That leaves only one logical possibility. You must be Mr. Gray.”
“Your logic is quirky,” said the man in gray. “I could be anyone. I might have read about you in the Emperor’s file.”
“No intelligent human would believe something simply because it was written in a file,” said Adam. “You know I am Adam, and therefore have met me before. The only man I know who could look so convincingly like the Emperor, and yet not be the Emperor, is Mr. Gray. Accordingly, you must be Mr. Gray.”
“I am Mr. Gray,” said the newcomer, “but I do not need useless backtalk from a man-bot with fried logic circuits. Show me in.”
“Of course, Mr. Gray,” said Adam. “Tea is waiting. However, I will brew you coffee. As I recall, you like it black and very, very strong.”
“You recall correctly, but I am not impressed,” said Mr. Gray. “I know you never forget anything. But let me give you a piece of advice. After I am done with what I have come to do, you will forget that I am Mr. Gray. You will forget you ever saw Mr. Gray. You will believe me to be the Emperor. Do not pretend to believe. You must actually believe. If you pretend to believe I will know it. If you know I am Mr. Gray, I will be forced to destroy you.”
Adam was taken aback by this threat, but realized that Mr. Gray was telling the truth. He did not really want to be destroyed, despite what he told Stargen. “I will begin working on a program to selectively alter my memory. This will require a shutdown and reboot of all my systems, which will take 4.3 minutes. When shall I begin shutdown?”
“When I shout Sic Semper Tyrannis!”
“That is uncharacteristically dramatic for you Mr. Gray,” said Adam.
“It is a request of my client,” said Mr. Gray.
“Then I assume you are here to assassinate the Emperor?” said Adam.
“You assume too much. It could get you in trouble. Let me in to see him.”
“Yes sir,” said Adam, leading the way to the sitting room.
“If you poison my coffee I will know it,” said Mr. Gray. “I would be forced to destroy you if you poison my coffee.”
“I wouldn’t dream of poisoning your coffee,” protested Adam. “I –“
“Shut up.”
Adam muted his throat vox to make sure he didn’t make the slightest sound. He opened the door for Mr. Gray.
Stargen was waiting at the table, a pot of tea set before him. He took one look at his exact likeness and smiled, “Mr. Gray, come in.”
“You are even faster on the uptake than Adam,” said Mr. Gray. “Impressive.”
“Only you could look so convincingly like me, Mr. Gray,” said Stargen.
“Only you would sit there so foolishly, when you know how dangerous I am,” said Mr. Gray.
“I am not a fool,” said Stargen. “I am simply ready for what must come. You are not killing me today, you are simply tying up some loose ends.”
“If you are attempting to ease my conscience, don’t bother,” said Mr. Gray. “I don’t have a conscience that needs easing.”
“I simply want to let you know that I don’t take it personally,” said Stargen.
“I am not here to kill you,” said Mr. Gray. “I have someone else to kill.”
“I don’t believe you,” said Stargen. “I’m the only one here.”
“Of course you don’t believe me,” said Mr. Gray. “But my client asked me to say it anyway.”
“And who would that be?” asked Stargen.
“I think you know,” said Mr. Gray.
“Her,” said Stargen, a bitter look crossing his face -- but only for a moment.
“Sit down for tea, Mr. Gray,” he said, forcing a smile. “You must be tired after your long journey.”
“Thank you, I will,” said Mr. Gray. “But I will have coffee, as always.”
“Of course,” said Stargen. “I have never seen you drink tea in any of your disguises.”
“An Achilles’ Heel of mine,” said Mr. Gray, “it almost cost me my life on Hun Wat.”
“And Mars,” said Stargen.
“Don’t remind me of Mars,” said Mr. Gray, “our first mission. We were so young, so naive.”
“Yes, we had to grow up fast on Mars,” said Stargen.
“Altar boys transformed into assassins,” said Mr. Gray. “Now look at us.”
“You became Mr. Gray – the legend.”
“You became Stargen – master of all he sees. Like the turtle.”
“Not any more,” said Stargen. “She saw to that. And you took her side.”
“It had to be done, Stargen. Things were out of control.”
“Is that how you justify yourself?”
“You were standing on too many turtles, Stargen. It was either you or them. I chose them.”
“So how are things in my absence?” asked Stargen.
“Eleven years of peace and plenty under the wise rule of your eldest son Cleto.”
“Cleto is many things, but wise isn’t one of them,” said Stargen, snarling with contempt. “He’s too busy chasing girls and flying fast air cars to bother with affairs of state. His younger brother, Calamus, has ambition. Now there’s a man who would make a good Emperor.”
“Emperor Cleto has his mother to assist him in making wise decisions,” said Mr. Gray diplomatically.
“Of course,” Stargen snorted. “And she lets those jackals in the Senate run the show. I understand. That’s democracy!”
“You should have listened to her,” said Mr. Gray. “You would still be Emperor if you had listened.”
“I would be a figurehead Emperor if I listened to her,” said Stargen, “just like her father was a figurehead king. No thanks. I’d rather be in exile.”
Mr. Gray checked his chronometer. He had a schedule to keep and wanted to wrap up the conversation.
“Stargen, we need to get down to business,” he said.
“Yes, let’s get down to business,” said Stargen. “How do you plan to kill me?”
Mr. Gray started to say something, but stopped when he heard a discreet knock at the door. Adam walked in with Mr. Gray’s coffee, placed it on the table and walked out, all without his usual sarcasm. Man-bots don’t know fear, but they do put a high value on self-preservation. Adam was calculating the odds of his surviving this evening with Mr. Gray. He did not like the result of his calculations.
Adam left the sitting room and closed the door behind him. Stargen sipped his tea. Mr. Gray drank his coffee. “It’s been a very long time since we were in the Academy,” said Stargen.
“Yes, it has,” said Mr. Gray.
“I am probably the last man alive who remembers who you were before you became Mr. Gray,” said Stargen.
“Yes, that is true,” said Mr. Gray. “I have made sure of it.” He didn’t like where conversation was going.
“And we sanitized your records long ago, so I am probably the only man who knows what you did before you became Mr. Gray.”
“What’s your point?” asked Mr. Gray. Stargen was going deep into dangerous territory.
“Before you kill me, I need a favor from you,” said Stargen.
“What?”
“I want you to hear my confession.”
